


liberosis of the psyche

by Anonymous



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Free Verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: at this point in time, in life, in the undulating cosmos of his being, xu minghao does not want to care.





	1. the kettle, saying goodbye to the boiling water: "you will be mist"

**Author's Note:**

> liberosis;  
> n. the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind you every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before you reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping it in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.

go away, he tells the cloud in his mind.

the mist clears, for a while,

then it coagulates back into the ominous blob

of gases (how?)

in his mind space (how??)

it tells him he'll never make it (never)

it tells him his efforts are never going to see the light of day (never, ever)-

 

... he closes his eyes again.

 

and when he opens them, he's back,

back in the shared dorm room

with the shared snores

it's still dark outside, and he steps;

gingerly steps to the window (don't wake them up)

gingerly pulls the curtain apart (don't wake them up)

 

and although it's four in the morning

the only thing awake in the streets being the streetlights (so skinny, like him)

the only thing awake in the dorms being the sweater-clad chopstick of a man (so skinny,  _it's him_ )

he knows it's gone for now, 

he  _knows,_ when he sees the members sleeping haphazardly, legs thrown over another's

he  _knows,_ when he sees the thirteen slippers outside the room, mismatched and overturned

 

he inhales, his erratic heartbeat bouncing off the four walls,

"stop thinking," he mumbles as he exhales, erratic heartbeat going limp in his hands.

 

so he closes his eyes, for the last time this night 

(before the sun awakes, before the streetlights die)

(before the mingyu's adore u alarm goes off in five minutes)

 

in the darkness of his shut eyelids, the mist has cleared,

and he  _knows,_

he  _knows,_ that he'll make it- (at least for now)

that  _they'll_ make it (or maybe forever.)

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. i'm not fishing for an answer (just untie the knots you knead)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> minghao fights analogies in his head, invisible battles of the mind, undecipherable wars that he suppresses to his best ability.
> 
> chapter title from: Charlie Lim - Knots

The day of schedules pass in a blur, and the cycle comes full circle. 

He sits, resigned, on his bunk bed at the end of the day, like how it started.

 

"I feel, I feel like a fish," Minghao thinks.

"A fish," Junhui laughs, and maybe he's said it aloud.

There are two paths to this conversation. He can brush this off. Or he can explain.

 

"Because, uh, I crave plankton," he tries.

Soonyoung, from the corner of the room, side-eyes him severely. If Soonyoung, the one that usually gets side-eyed, is judging him, then he's probably barking up the wrong tree.

Junhui still observes him knowingly - this was never about plankton.

 

Minghao chooses to explain.

"You know, I feel like the fish left on the melted ice displays at the wet market. Left out there since five in the morning, still there at noon."

"Uh-huh," Junhui nods, not really trying to follow along anymore. Something Wonwoo's said from the bathroom has captured most of his interest, and Minghao can tell that his nods only serve the purpose of pacifying him.

Minghao doesn't see the use in keeping the dying embers of this failed conversation alight. No one else in the room cares either.

So he laughs. He gets up. He accidentally hits the underside of the upper bunk in his flurry of self-induced embarrassment.

 

Junhui's eyes crinkle at this. "Watch-out, Haohao."

_God he has to stop calling me that._

 

 

He tries to reciprocate with a non-hostile look of his own, but it's hard to suppress the frustration that comes from nowhere.

_No one wants to listen to your analogies that don't make any sense._

 

_I feel like a fish, left out on the display counter for way too long_

_I know I'll die soon, but I know not when;_

_I know I used to taste good, but as people pass, as they pick others over me, I lose hope._

_Maybe I had dreams._

_Maybe I used to believe anything was possible._

_Maybe I used to think I was special._

_But as I get staler by the second,_

_the only organisms attracted to me being the houseflies that flit around my scaly skin,_

_I realise-_

_that aspirations belonged to the past,_

_that aspirations belonged_  in _the past,_

_and clinging to them to the present_

_only intensifies the very impact of disillusionment._

 

_holding my past expectations against myself makes me feel like_

_a leftover;_

_a leftover that didn't fulfill its purpose,_

_a leftover that doesn't belong._

 

 

Minghao later finds himself in the kitchen. 

He sits before the table-top counter, elbows rested on the cool marble.

His gaze remains transfixed on the half-eaten can of communal tuna spread.

The words, they roll off his tongue as soon as his mind comprehends them, like second nature, like a hopeless pledge, like a persistent plea.

"I feel like a fish."  


Hansol sits himself across Minghao, mimicking the way he cradles his face in the crook of his elbows.

"A fish out of water?" he asks.

Minghao smiles. "Yeah. For too long."

_Maybe someone gets it._

Hansol snickers and wiggles his eyebrows. "Feeling thirsty?"

_Or not._

"Nah."

 

 

_in a school of a thousand tunas, you can still feel alone._

_in a group that feels like family, you can still feel lost in the light_

 

_in the noise-ridden haze of the wet market, lying on the cold, icy, hard truth,_

_i feel like a fish._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> minghao writes his very first (kind of) diary entry on his new phone, has a date pending with his Best Bro Kim Mingyu, and doesn't make it to the end of the note when a different kind of emotion takes over

dear Notes app on the new iPhone 7 given to me by a fan (because who the hell uses a paperback diary when you can lock! your! own! notes! on mobile!),

 

positive emotion should be illicited

when they say hope anchors the soul.

but i can't help but look at

the fine print, not the words in bold;

 

what does an anchor do?

it weighs you down,

watches

          as

             you

                drown.

 

hope, that keeps me from going anywhere

the same anticipation that lays my ship bare

 

i'm sick of it.

 

 

when you try to pull an anchor out

it's never easy, not without

enormous strength to uproot it from the sea floor and the possibility

of coral reef breakage, fragmentation and habitat destruction and

 

take a Look at the goddamn dying great barrier reef

to those irresponsible sailors, xu minghao here is telling you that we've got beef!

 

that's right, i've given up on rhyming

i'm too righteously angry to keep on writing

i just really really love the sea

i mean, can't you see? i said it so much on OFD

(holy shit i sound like shua-hyung now,

im going to hell for my non-existent rap skills, wow!)

 

 

 

i can hear The Bro mingyu calling me to go out for dinner,

i can imagine the meat grilling, i'm a slut for meat, im a  _sinner,_

 

 

i'm sorry this was really brief

(i'm ending this poem, _what a relief)_

depression seems to turn to rage when i preach about my 'save the sea' belief

but now i gotta go, for with kim mingyu, i finally have literal beef.

 

 

\- xu minghao

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if you were expecting something Beautiful and Heartfelt
> 
> i just kind of realised xu minghao ain't that kind of homie who would write mushy shit. no, he'd keep it in his wrinky walnut heart, only to blurt it out, and then pretend he didn't just say that, pretend he can't explain bc he's lost in translation
> 
> hope you had fun lmao. i was watching one fine day and i noticed minghao kept! saying! that he loved the sea and it was Precious. i wanted to cry
> 
> if you wanna know about anchor damage on coral reefs: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/video-shows-anchor-destroying-reef_us_5669a146e4b009377b23fed0
> 
> ALSO!! HEALING MV!! HOW IS IT HEALING WHEN HERE I AM, DEAD? my boys josh and hao having that Sweet Screentime!! bruh and gyuhao??


	4. your words (a lamp to my feet, a light to my path)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes, mingyu's the one that reminds him that friendship was never about blindsided worship or comparative inferiority.
> 
> (maybe it's all about the good ol' cliche notion of being there for each other.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> platonic gyuhao bc it;s thegr8 -est
> 
> slight biblical references BUT non-religious. mostly word descriptors for someone that guides you?? the bible, even if fictional to most, is an amazing piece of prose haha

in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth

(if God existed, in all His worth.)

somewhere in the middle of civilization, verse two of genesis took place on the earth;

the earth, not formless but still empty in darkness,

in darkness, indeed over the surface of the deep,

the deep, wherein mundane xu minghao was probably born,

born, amongst a million of indistinguishable beings.

 

and God said, without needing to flip a switch, "let there be light".

and God made, just before the end of the twentieth century, a kim mingyu, and he was ** _right._**

 

he shone brighter than anything in the universe

he stood, tall, auroral, like a lighthouse in the deep blue sea

upon the surface of the deep, light waves transverse

as they penetrated through to reveal those he had to free.

 

 

 

it's one of these moments again, where it's just them and seokmin in the van

and they're waiting in the parking lot for their manager to return from his pee break. 

mingyu's scrolling through his phone, and minghao's own is cradled in his hand

his battery's flat and manager-hyung had better return soon, for heaven's sake.

 

or he'll have nothing to do but look at mingyu's blemish-free face and wonder,

how did he ever get a friend like this?

how did his version of Icarus fly into the sun and not get burnt?

how did dark matter find Polaris in the midst of an obsidian sky?

 

the answers to these questions are found on the sea floor

of that mythical, deep, cold, sea where he came from.

curiosity eats at him, but for now he'll shut the door

expelling his fictional mind-gym out of the present, that's warm .

 

"myungho-yah, is there something on my face?" mingyu asks lazily, reclining in his seat.

yes, minghao thinks;

golden skin that shines in any light,

oblivious eyes that hasn't seen the world in its premature desolation,

unexpected humility for someone who's able to do everything well,

unprecedented tolerance and patience to deal with someone like me,

and maybe, 

just a little,

of perfection.

 

"yeah, i think the kimchi from our lunch is kinda, just under your chin. Just a small dot, nothing big," he replies, as Mingyu helps to recline his seat, too.

Seokmin looks up from his seat in the back. "Soonyoung-hyung said you had a great attention to detail," He nods to himself, then turning his attention back to his phone.

 

Minghao allows himself a small smile. 

 

"You should like, acknowledge your strong points more. You're always there for us, always listening, you know? What can I even do without you," 

Mingyu says, turns off his phone, turns off the dome light, and turns to him.

The grin on Minghao's face grows wider till he shuts his eyes and throws his head backwards into the neck pillow, propping his legs up.

 

There's a fistbump exchanged, and he stops scrambling to find the switch,

in his never-ending version of esteem-driven darkness.

 

Because he remembers that the lamp unto his feet is beside him now

and in the deep where his footing is often lost, there is a light upon his path.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just have a really big thing for minghao and mingyu's friendship?? like beyond the "omg they argue so much" "omg they're so cute when they bicker" "omg height difference", even platonically i think their dynamics are pretty amazing
> 
> (eck I HATE PHYSICS IF YOU SPOT THAT ONE LINE ABOUT TRANSVERSE LIGHT WAVES YOU'RE A WINNER)  
> pls talk to me about gyuhao or sth. i need more ppl talking abt brotps!!!!! in general!!!!


	5. you think i'm funny when i tell the punchline wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he's not the funniest person alive, but he tries.

sometimes, the joke's not the most important thing

it's the reaction that gives gravity to the punchline

seeing someone else's eyes crinkle's the most rewarding

even if it's not funny when you say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

 

 

the hero of our story, minghao, learns this on one of those nights

greeted with silence after he tries to make a shaky, misunderstood pun

with limited korean vocabulary, unbelieving eyes staring back, it's a hard fight

but when hansol's laughter punctures the still air, he knows his work is done.

 

 

"there's something addictive about making people laugh," 

wonwoo tells minghao sagely (after a joke that made junhui leave the room)

"it's got me hooked to the point where it's worth enough

to embarrass myself in front of _some_ _people_ , i assume."

 

 

he's not that close to wonwoo, but it gets to him. 

 

2am, and minghao's thinking this conversation over on his bed

thinking of the " _some people_  " wonwoo was talking about

a few familiar names, a few familiar smiles, going over above his head

and he knows wonwoo's spot on this time, without a doubt.

 

 


	6. highlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an interpretation of the thoughts that process themselves in xu minghao's mind throughout performance unit's stage during their showcase for Highlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> highlight is the shortest chapter, probably.  
> their stage kind of moved me to tears, it was a cinematic masterpiece, every word, every move, every breath.  
> even the garbled, processed voice in the drop possessed a message that hit me in the chest, knocked the life out of my lungs. a message minghao wrote in and out of performances, that was, while simple, too beautiful to ignore.

**你眼中的我**

the me in your eyes, eyes that stare into my soul

glinting off those glassy orbs, i see it,

**我眼中的你**

when i hold you in my gaze like you do

**深邃的眼眸**

lost in the depth of those eyes

like an ocean with no shore,

**看不见尽头**

i can't see the end

(but i'm willing to drown in all of you)

**相信这瞬间**

press pause and hold this moment in your hands

believe that within this span of time

**奇迹会出现**

a miracle would appear, binding us four

**不管白与夜**

so that no matter light

or night

**陪在你身边**

i'll always be right

by your sides.

 

_(spotlight luminance, beams scattered on the floor_

_we move, ever- dynamic, my friend, my partner, my mentor_

_breaths held before the drop, we know what we're waiting for)_

 

**highlight.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bEST SONG IN THEIR ALBUM!!!!!! the edm fan in me is Living. perf unit = perfection unit


End file.
